


Christmas In The City Of Angels

by soundofthesurf



Category: Take That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofthesurf/pseuds/soundofthesurf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“He is now preparing the egg-nog.” As if this was the most normal thing to do on a January, the 12th, in Los Angeles.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Robbie loves singing, Howard loves presents, Mark loves egg-nogg, Jason loves his new Kindle - and ultimately Gary loves them all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas In The City Of Angels

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2011 Secret-Santa-ficathon. I now feel save to release it to the archive. ;D
> 
> I can't thank the precious przed enough for her fabulous beta-skills! And as always all remaining mistakes are mine, and mine alone. 
> 
> And now let's get into a festive mood, shall we?

_“It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...”_  
  
“Jesus, does he ever stop singing?” Gary is grumpy.  
  
 _“...everywhere you go...”_  
  
“No, not really. Not ever since I'm here, that is...maybe he wasn't singing all the time before I arrived, but I can't know for sure, can I?”  
  
 _“...take a look at the five and ten...”_  
  
“That”, Howard throws in from somewhere underneath the completely over-sized and ridiculously over-decorated Christmas tree, “is a question worth thinking about, Jay. If Robbie was singing while no one else was here – could his singing be heard?” Gary could swear this is followed by a dirty chuckle, but it could also have been Jason's latest sneeze.  
  
 _“...glistening once again...”_  
  
“Mmmh, yeah, I get what you mean. Worth a thought for sure...is it okay if I think about it later? This thingy here keeps me pretty occupied.”  
  
 _“...with candy canes and silver lanes aglow...”_  
  
“Think about it whenever you feel like it.” Howard offers, ever so generously. He's crawling out from under the tree, a huge green present in hands, a big fat grin on his face. “Found it!”  
Jason looks up from his shiny new Kindle. “Yeah, that's the one!” He giggles, “you're gonna love this one, mate.”  
  
 _“....it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...”_  
  
“Goodness, Rob, it's January the 12th! Stop it!” In Gary's defence – he's jet-lagged. He was the last one to arrive, as per usual being the busiest one and unlike the others hasn't caught up on sleep quite yet.  
  
 _“...toys in every store...”_  
  
Howard flops down on the sofa next to the peacefully sleeping Mark and starts unwrapping Jason's present.  
  
 _“...but the prettiest sight to see...”_  
  
Gary can't help but look over to Markie on the sofa. Prettiest sight to see in this room for sure, Mark is curled up there like only Mark Owen can curl up. One of Rob's countless cute dogs has settled with him and Gary really can't tell which one of them makes that snoring noise. It doesn't really matter anyway, even their snoring is adorable.  
  
 _“...is the holly that will be on your front door...”_  
  
On the opposite sofa Jason is sneezing yet again. “Bless you!” Howard mumbles while carefully opening the box that was underneath the shiny green (reccycled, fair-trade-) wrapping paper. “Thanks, mate”, Jason says before he takes another tissue from the reindeer-shaped box and blows his nose. For a moment Gary blinks, but no, his eyes are not playing tricks on him, this _really_ is a reindeer-shaped-tissue-box.  
  
 _“...a pair of Hop-a-long boots...”_  
  
“You know, Jay, I told you all that sitting around on park benches at that time of the year will do you no good!” Once more Gary wonders why no one ever listens to him.  
  
 _“...and a pistol that shoots...”_  
  
“Ah, Gaz...you're really really jet-lagged, mate, aren't you?” Jason's empathy would drive Gary up the wall if it wasn't for...  
  
 _“...are the wish of Barney and Ben...”_  
  
...Robbie still singing in the kitchen. Which is even worse. “What the fuck is he doing there anyway? Baking mince pies?”  
“Shhh, not so loud!”  
“Seriously, Gary, you're waking Markie!”  
  
 _“...dolls that will talk...”_  
  
“And, no, he's not baking mince pies,” Jason states with a seriously annoying undertone of what-a-silly-thought-that-is in his voice, “we've made the mince pies yesterday already!”  
  
 _“...and will go for a walk...”_  
  
Howard lets out a whistling noise of anticipation. “Jay....oooohh, is this....Jay....is this what I think it is....?”  
  
 _“...is the hope of Janice and Jen...”_  
  
“He is now preparing the egg-nog.” As if this was the most normal thing to do on a January, the 12th, in Los Angeles.  
  
 _“...and Mom and Dad can hardly wait...”_  
  
Jason doesn't notice just how very annoyed Gary is by now, for he's got his eyes on Howard, who, with eyes as big as saucers and chins as red as the Santa Claus-costume Robbie is wearing in the kitchen, realizes that the present really is what he thinks it is.  
  
 _“...for school to start again...”_  
  
“IT'S A HELICOPTER!” Howard jumps on the sofa, causing Mark to stir in his sleep. “Sorry, mate,” Howard whispers, “but..it's a _fucking_ helicopter!” He gets up, runs around the coffee table, drags Jason up from the sofa, and pulls him into a hug, not caring one bit about the Kindle, the reindeer-shaped tissue box, or the germs. “A fucking helicopter!”  
“You like it?” Jason asks happily, hardly able to breathe properly in the tight hug. Howard beams. “Fucking YES!”  
  
 _“...it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...”_  
  
Gary starts believing this is all just a weird dream. It must be. And hopefully he'll wake up soon.  
“I thought you could rehearse with this one before you take those flying lessons, you know?”  
“Awwww, mate, you're really worried about that, aren't you?”  
Of course he is, it may only be one of the three dozen things Jason's irrationally worried about, but it's high up on that list. (Yes, there's a list. And, yes, it's still a handwritten one. Deal with it.)  
  
 _“...everywhere you go...”_  
  
“Momentarily I'm more worried about the amount of money I've just spent in this Kindle-store...it's a bit decadent, really. I mean, I already owe most of these books anyway and now I buy them again...” He shakes his head slowly.  
“Yeah, but you see, at least you're not killing any trees with your purchases!”  
  
 _“...there's a tree in the Grand hotel...”_  
  
That thought lights Jason's face up immediately. Mark's letting out a deep sigh in his sleep. (It's a good, deep sigh. He's dreaming something very very very joyful. He won't remember exactly what it was when he wakes up later, but he'll wake up with that lovely, satisfying, happy feeling you have when you've dreamt something wonderful.) Howard runs into the kitchen to show egg-nog-preparing Santa Rob his helicopter. _Maybe,_ Gary thinks, _it's not a dream, maybe I'm just drunk? And if so, it's gonna be one hell of a hangover tomorrow._ Considering this, Gary decides he'd prefer the dream option, if he could choose. Which he doubts.  
  
 _“...one in the park as well...”_  
  
It seems Santa Rob can sing and admire toy helicopters simultaneously. The multitasking king of pop. Gary wants to scream, but that would wake up Markie. Jason sneezes once more.  
  
 _“...the sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow...”_  
  
“That's his favourite line in the song”, Jason chuckles. “And I think mine as well.” He's not looking up from his new Kindle while stating this, too happy about the fact that there are 359 books on it by now and there's _still_ room for so many more. It's not that Jason totally rejects all technical equipment. Not when it's able to provide him with these amounts of amazing awesomeness.  
  
Howard returns from the kitchen, informs the awake attendees that he's now going outside to let the helicopter fly, and leaves, beaming and tongue-clicking.  
  
 _“...it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...”_  
  
Gary would love to know how far Rob's with the egg-nog, but the thought of going into the kitchen to ask him – no, that's just too much. It's weird enough here in the lounge with the Christmas-decoration-overload, snoring Markie, sneezing Jay, and staring-into-the-sky Howard in front of the window. _How_ , he wonders, _did it come to this?_  
  
“Gaz! You're doing it _again_!”  
“What?”  
  
 _“...soon the bells will start...”_  
  
“You're drumming on the armrest.”  
“SO WHAT! EVERYONE HERE IS ACTING LIKE CRAZY...”  
  
 _“...and the thing that will make them ring...”_  
  
“...AND I'M NOT ALLOWED TO DRUM A LITTLE ON...”  
“Shhhh.....!”  
  
But it's too late, Mark awakes with a start, his head popping out of the pillows on the sofa. He looks around, a bit bedazzled first, then realizes where he is, remembers, smiles at everyone, then sees the helicopter fly by the window front, and hears Rob sing...  
  
 _“...is the carol that you sing...”_  
  
“How many, Jay?” Mark rubs his eyes, and stretches his bones, carefully, so to not wake the still sleeping dog beside him.  
“Three-hundred-and-sixty-seven!”  
“So _fucking_ cool! I'll get one first thing when we're back!”  
  
The kitchen door opens. While preparing the egg-nog Santa Rob has obviously decided that the Santa-trousers are too warm in the Los Angeles winter. He juggles one carafe filled with a thick yellow liquid in each hand. One with booze, one without. Santa Rob may not wear trousers, live in a house full of weirdos, and constantly sing Dean Martin-songs, but he's a considerate and responsible saint after all.  
  
 _“...right with-iiiiiiin yoooouuuur hea-aaaaart!”_  
  
“Egg-nogggggggg!” Mark beams.  
“Howard! THE EGG-NOG'S READY!”  
  
The helicopter crashes into Om's right eye. Gary can't help but stare at Robbie's hairy legs. Robbie can't help but giggle at Mark's messed-up hair. Jason can't help but be worried about Om's right eye (yes, he cares more about the giant robot than the little helicopter, silly really, and it's so unlike him to be with the Goliath rather than with the David). Howard storms in. “EGG-NOG!”  
  
Gary gives up. It's so hard to be grumpy with these lads around. They want Christmas? Here? Now? Why not...And so Gary Barlow does what Gary Barlow always does when he realizes what a happy lad he really is – he starts singing. _“So this is Christmas...”_  
  
Mark joins in while Rob fills glasses with egg-nog. _“...and what have you done...”_  
  
Jason puts the Kindle away for the first time today, _“...another year over...”_  
  
 _“...and a new one just begun...”_ Howard carries on, not caring one bit about the little yellow egg-nog-mustache above his upper lip. (Someone will soon kiss it away, but that's another story altogether...)  
  
Trouser-less Santa Rob looks around happily as they all join in _“...and so this is Christmas, I hope you have fun, the near and the dear ones, the old and the young...”_  
  
This is it. _“A very merry Christmas, and a happy new year...”_ Four men in their underwear only and one in half a Santa-costume singing their hearts out and raising their glasses, _“...let's hope it's a good one, without any fear!”_  
  
 _This_ , Gary knows, _is Christmas._  
  
Outside in the garden Om's heart glows bright and red. All is well.  



End file.
